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The car issue is going to be a problem. Namely, I don’t have one, and a rental is pricey.

For the most part, having a car is a liability when you live in Manhattan. The streets are treacherous, parking is scarce, and public transportation is ubiquitous. There’s no reason to have a car.

Plenty of my friends back at Coble & Roy had cars. Luxury vehicles they used as status symbols and took for joy rides on the weekends. As someone who grew up broke, I never had it in me to spend a fortune on a Porsche that I was going to stash away in the garage most of the time anyway. But I don’t have any interaction with my old friends, so I can’t call them out of the blue and ask to borrow their car.

The only person I know who owns a car is Malcolm. He and I are hardly good friends, but maybe after stealing my job and breaking the news that my fiancée dumped me, he’ll be feeling charitable. Thankfully, I have Malcolm’s number saved in my phone.

Before I do anything else, I stuff the paper bag with the dismembered fingers in it back where I found it in the kitchen. This way, if Whitney returns, she might not realize I’ve discovered what she’s stashed in our kitchen. It makes me feel like I’m one step ahead of Whitney.

Although it occurs to me, in the back of my head, that now my fingerprints are all over that paper bag.

I bring Malcolm’s number up on my phone and start to click on it, but then I hesitate, remembering the way he chatted amicably with Whitney this morning. That was so strange. But then again, his explanation about knowing her from the diner made sense. There’s no reason not to trust him. I’m second-guessing everyone lately.

Finally, I select his number, and it rings a few times. He might not answer. He is, after all, likely at work. I’m the only unemployed loser here. But at least I have my freedom—for now.

“Hello?” Malcolm’s deep voice floats into my ear. “Blake? Is that you?”

I clear my throat. “Uh, yeah.”

“Everything okay, man?”

“Yeah, definitely.” It might be the biggest lie I have told in my entire life. “But, listen, I need a favor.”

“Sure. What is it?”

“I need to borrow your car.”

“My car?” He sounds flabbergasted. “Why do you need my car?”

“I have to take a little road trip.”

“To where?”

“Not far. Just New Jersey.”

“ Jersey? ” He couldn’t have sounded more surprised if I told him I was going to the moon. “Why are you going there ?”

“I’m visiting a friend.”

“What about the PATH train?”

“It’s a little…far out there.” I’m still holding Whitney’s transcript, and it crinkles underneath my grip. “Where is your car? Is it in the garage at your apartment building?”

“Yeah, but…” He hesitates. “I don’t know about this, Blake. All of a sudden, you need to go to Bumfuck, New Jersey? And if there’s an accident, I’m not even sure my insurance would cover it. Do you have insurance?”

I obviously don’t. Why would I have car insurance when I don’t even have a car? “I’m a really careful driver. I promise, it will be fine.”

“I’m sorry, man.” He sighs. “I want to help you out, but… I don’t think it’s a good idea. But, listen, what if we went out and got a drink again to talk about all this or…”

“I don’t need a drink !” I snap at him. “I need a car .”

I shouldn’t have yelled at him. I can tell by the silence on the other line that I upset him. If there was any chance at all he was willing to help me, I have blown it.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he presses me.

“Forget it,” I mumble. And I hang up.

Okay, Malcolm won’t let me borrow his car. But that’s fine. I can rent a car. I don’t need him.

One way or another, I am doing this. I am getting to the bottom of this if it’s the last thing I do.